Perfect Order
by Troublesome Dragon
Summary: England goes on a quest to find the key to saving Europe and maybe, a little part of himself. Unfortunately, he's stuck with an American tin head for a guide.
1. How may I help you?

Welcome to Tasty Buns How May I Help You

England walked into the restaurant, extremely ticked that it had taken so long to find. No one seemed to know an Alfred, and he didn't mean just Alfred F. Jones. No one in America went by that name whether it was simply out of respect for the dead or an attempt for the government to make finding the information he needed difficult. Finally, finally, one little girl mentioned a burger joint where he could find an Alfred, whether it was the Alfred he needed remained to be seen.

Much like the rest of America, the reconstruction had made the place flawless to a fault. There wasn't any dirt anywhere. Mysteriously, much of the designs where based on styles prominent in the 1950's, he had a feeling this had been one of Alfred's final wishes. He was at his most optimistic then. As he opened the door, the small bell rang, and the fry cook looked up. England stared, not realizing how literal his informant had been when he said to find Alfred.

"Welcome to Tasty Buns how may I help you?" he said cheerfully, handing over a take out bag to a lady in front of him. England oddly enough did not feel the sting he would have thought at seeing someone else with Alfred's face. Of course, the people America worked with rotated at a rapid pace, but they would still care that he'd all but disappeared as a personality. They would have wanted another one, and it made sense for this machine to know the secret. Who did Alfred trust more than himself after all?

"Alfred, we need to know the formula your master gave you," The smile disappeared entirely when he realized he wasn't a customer. England sighed in relief, glad that this model did have some sort of collective intelligence past making burgers.

"I'm sorry that is not on the menu, but you may request a special order from one of the human cooks upstairs," he said, making England's face blanch. He was back to smiling. Perhaps, he had imagined the rest. Months, months wasted, finding a stupid fry cook robot, he couldn't know what the other countries around the globe desperately needed, a gift that Alfred had only seen fit to give to his brother who unfortunately died right after him. This was his only lead, and it was over just like that.

"Forget it, I knew the idiot couldn't actually make intelligent life," he said, and this Alfred cast him a frosty glare, before wacking Arthur with his metal spatula.

"Ow," England said, both irritated and excited by the signs of personality. He must know something. Yes, there was hope.

"That will be two ninety five," Alfred demanded. He didn't seriously expect him to pay for getting whacked up side the head, did he? No matter, even if he was engineered by Alfred himself, he would get the information he needed from this damn thing.

"I didn't order anything," he said, practically shouting, earning him strange looks from the people at the tables. They returned to their business once spotted. After the riots and pillaging, it seemed the U.S. mentality had developed a mistrust of strangers, especially ones from abroad. He didn't blame them. After he . . . no, he needed to focus, and this glorified grease fire was the key to everything.

"You were being an ass," he replied cooly, before handing over a vanilla ice cream cone to a little girl.

" So, you do know something," England said, leaning forward. Alfred ignored him and filled the next order. This continued until he had no customers left. Finally, he bothered to acknowledge the brit.

"Why should I help you? All that matters is my people are safe and happy" he said, and just as he thought, the reason this place hadn't received a new personification was that Alfred had simply made a replacement, one that couldn't die (from natural causes anyway) and could gain the knowledge he had easily. He never did like to start over.

"The rest of the world is running out of food, and your government won't reveal the bloody formula," he said, not caring who heard, and no one cared to interrupt. America grinned and lifted his hands to feign innocence, one of which still had the spatula.

" Sorry, not my problem,"America said, flipping his break sign and helping himself to some soda. Slurp. Guzzle. Glurp. England watched in disgust as he sucked the soda like a vacuum. England began to twitch. This thing only seemed to have Alfred's bad qualities, the self centered soda guzzling prat. After the thing belched, England couldn't take it anymore. What was he really waiting for anyway?

"Forget it, as always, no matter what you're made of, you are selfish to the end" he spat, briskly making his way to the door which wasn't more than ten steps away. The place was small and secluded, but everyone in town called it the best kept secret in Idaho. He'd leave it a secret for all the good this robot was.

"So you're going to give up that easily huh?" Alfred replied coyly. No, every time he tried to dissociate himself with that idiot he dragged him back in, until, . . . never mind that. Against his overwhelming desire to leave and never see him again, he turned around.

"I imagine Alfred programed you to follow strict rules correct? And knowing him, he would follow the bloody three laws of robotics," England said, and this Alfred put a hand where his heart would have been, revealing the first semblance of pride he possessed.

" Alfred Jones program me without a heart? Impossible," he said with a teasing smile. _If you can convince me, I will help you. _This machine had something he needed, and he wasn't asking for much. He might as well try. What else could he do?

"Okay, what will make you give up the formula?" England asked because he wasn't all that good with emotions. He'd pushed any semblance of that down years before, to the point that he'd become estranged from his extended family. America- Alfred( because he would not recognize him as such) crossed his arms. It just wasn't fair. He'd expected- wanted to start over with him( or whoever replaced him), and instead, there was a hunk of metal.

" Say please," Alfred said in a sing song way. The little girl from before giggled in the corner. He winked at her. His smile changed into a more of a smirk when Arthur's jaw dropped. He couldn't be serious. Arthur, say please to a machine? A thing made to serve man and who existed more out of convenience and desperation than anything, no, he wouldn't.

"No," he said instantly. America flipped another burger.

"Say it," he said, with an edge of impatience. As much as it bothered him, he noted Alfred's growing annoyance and stopped himself from saying no again. The people at home were counting on him. It wasn't fair that America purposely avoided telling the rest of Europe his secret, all because of what Arthur did. He would attempt to reconcile that as best he could.

" Fine. Please," England said, waiting and waiting as Alfred checked his servers. Finally, he shrugged.

" I don't know," he said, and England began making a scene throwing napkins everywhere. Alfred let him, continuing to smile lazily. Some people were leaving at this point, before "the crazy man" sat down.

"What the hell? You tricked me. You stupid fry cook" England said, shaking his fist, enraged, but clear headed enough not to hit him and avoid bruising his knuckles on the metal body hidden underneath the synthetic skin.

"Leave it to him to make bloody robot fry cooks and not keep a back up of the stupid formula," England muttered, because it had all been very mysterious at first. England had blamed himself as far as why America had begun to slowly withdraw from the international scene and stay at home. Most had assumed that it was simply his preference. No one realized that he had grown weak and had been advised to stay at home for his health. He had exhausted most of his natural resources and had been working frantically to ensure the future of his people before everything got shot to hell. Perhaps, if he had known that, he wouldn't have done what he did. (They told him it was alright, and he had believed them, but that's another story entirely.) The fact remained that North America was mysteriously run so they did not suffer food shortages, and the rest of the world was not.

"I don't have all of it. If I did, I wouldn't remember that I knew it," Alfred said sympathetically. Seeing another customer walk in, he took their order while England considered the information given to him.

"So, what do you know?" England said, and Alfred considered a moment.

"Rosebud,"he said, and Arthur assumed the robot was teasing him. No way Alfred would say that, well actually . . . Damn America for being so random.

"You have got to be kidding me?" he asked, back to square one. Perhaps his time would have been better spent helping Russia and Japan crack the code, the fact Ivan hadn't yet left the man somewhat bitter. England pointed out no one knew how long ago America had developed the formula so he should be patient. (Arthur wasn't sure if they could. No one had tried and succeeded before, and it was America, not one of his scientist that created it. Still, if anyone had a similar passion for science, it was Russia and Japan.)

"It's not what he said, but it's something like that. He probably wasn't thinking about all that science stuff at that point," Alfred elaborated, and his speech pattern slowed becoming hesitant and sad, (like he would know true sadness.)

"You heard his last words?"England said, becoming somewhat distracted. All he had heard from his boss was America was dead, and they should celebrate. It was then that he'd walked out of parliament for the last time and hadn't returned since.

"Yeah, he told them to let me in," Alfred said, slurping the last bit of soda and staring at the empty cup.

"And?" Arthur pressed. Alfred shook his head, chucking the empty soda cup into the bin.

"Never mind, it's too personal. I don't think he would have wanted you to know," Alfred said which only made Arthur's curiosity burn brighter. Did Alfred not hate him as much as he claimed in his final years? Did he forgive him for destroying him, little by little?

"Did he say my name?" England said, causing the robot to erupt in hearty laughter. It was so realistic that it caused England to pause. Perhaps, he wasn't as okay with this copy as he thought. However, if he noticed England's sudden discomfort, he hid it well. Alfred gave him a rueful grin.

"Conceited much?" Alfred said, making England scowl. Not that Alfred's opinion actually mattered to him, he could call him a monster as much as he wanted. Whatever the rest of the world thought, his bosses had made England better for a little while, at others expense, but he hadn't known that then. He'd seen nothing but happy faces. No one showed him the pictures.. . and

"Just tell me," he snapped. Alfred extended his hand and took hold of his head, pulling it back to get a better look at his eyes. England grit his teeth, but Alfred chuckled, releasing him.

"Neverland" he whispered, watching him closely. Neverland. He'd said that? It could mean so many things. Whether it was this enclosed bubble he'd created for his people or a reference to happy times long past, he wasn't sure. He knew what he wanted it to mean, what it could mean and what this robot thought it meant.

"Are you sure?"he asked, still wondering what to make of it. In the pressure of his final days, did he wish for . . . no.

"Yeah," Alfred said with a heavy sigh. He marveled at these things, one could not tell the difference most of the time with the advanced ones. If he did not have the gut instinct that told him this wasn't Alfred, he would have thought as much. Not that it mattered, he wasn't. He felt a bit more at peace about his departure, but he still did not have what he needed.

"Well, thank you for your time," England said, heading out. Alfred moved from the counter, and England instinctively turned. No way he'd attack him, but he wouldn't take the chance. He need not have bothered.

"Where are you going?" Alfred said, appearing the tiniest bit apprehensive. Does he have the compulsion to befriend other nations? Or is he confused by other memories? Ones, where he was still smiling fondly at America, instead of smugly. _I told you I would win one day, boy. Once again, I am the best, and you're left in the dust. _England's eyes watered. He hadn't known then that his government had poisoned the water supply, burned the fields, killed . . .

"While what you said is an interesting tidbit, it doesn't really help me now does it?" England said, growing stiff. He couldn't break down here.

"I can take you there," Alfred offered, casually, as if he did it all the time, as if it were real. All that was a ridiculous and useless fancy, he was a robot. What did he know of such things?

"Nice try,"he said, managing to glare. It didn't matter what he did before. He wasn't putting up with such a notion. At no time had he believed in such a thing, he loved the idea, but this source wasn't credible, and the faeries that he'd imagined had only giggled scornfully when he asked. _You're such a dreamer Arthur. _

"I'm serious. It's where he figured out the formula. If nothing else, it will give you another lead, " he offered helpfully. Arthur laughed mockingly, and Alfred frowned, ignoring the little girl trying to get his attention.

"You want to send me on another wild goose chase?" England asked, and Alfred immediately switched to a sly grin.

"Do you have another one to follow?" he asked, and England huffed. He didn't need to know that he didn't. England could swallow his pride and return to parliament and forget this hopeless mission that was sending him to Neverland of all things. He could.

"Can you even leave your post?" Arthur asked instead. Alfred's smile grew even wider, finally picking up the little girl.

"I'm America. I can have any job I want," he pushed his thumb to his heart for emphasis. The girl giggled and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and slipped her a note. She then squirmed out of his grip and returned to her family in oddly formal attire compared to her yellow summer dress. He wasn't sure why his attention kept coming to her, but it simply did. He wasn't missing his family or anything. Whatever, he had a mission to accomplish. Silly little girls in sunflower dresses didn't matter.

"And you chose to be a fry cook," he said wryly. He'd always thought if Alfred ever did have to take a human occupation, he'd go for astronaut. This caught Alfred by surprise. He looked at him dubiously as if it were obvious. Yes, he could understand why, but it's such a waste for a robot to stuff his face.

"So? I own the place," he said with a shrug.

"Never mind, I should really stop trying to understand you Americans," he said and shook his head. He couldn't really seem to get used to this machine. Alfred played with his tag that actually read George. So how had that little girl known? Not important, he did have a lead right now, sort of.

"Is Neverland code for something?" he asked, and Alfred once again checked his servers.

"Yes and no," he replied. How cryptic, it couldn't be literal. Mermaids? Faeries? Such things only existed to keep people sane, he'd lost that luxury around the time he'd gained a dictator.

"Be more specific," he asked, keeping his tone calm yet insistent.

"Neverland has many stops along the way, and all together carry the ideas of that place," he replied vaguely. So, it was a recreation, by the sounds of it, an American recreation. He had seen plenty of his things remade by America. He didn't really want to add Neverland.

"So, it really isn't Neverland," England said, somewhat disappointed. He should have known it wasn't true, but the machine had sounded so confident.

"Well, he made it, so it sort of is," Alfred said logically. There's American ingenuity for you, if it doesn't exist, fake it. He had mixed feelings about America's illusions, sometimes he really liked the cgi, and other times, he just felt lied to.

"He made it?" Arthur said, knowing that fact alone might string him along a little longer.

"Same time he was competing with Japan in the robot department," Alfred reminded him. Ah yes, he remembered that fondly, although Japan had better reasons for what he did. Japan had an increasingly older population to worry about. America had been more than happy to share what he knew back then. That wasn't something that could be said later on.

"So, he makes islands to?" he said, disbelieving. He couldn't have faked that, not to the last flippin mermaid.

"It's a secret city," he said, putting a finger to his lips.

"Of course it is, he would urbanize it. Wouldn't he? He couldn't leave things well enough alone," A nasty glare met his sardonic response, it didn't seem natural on Alfred's face.

"You can leave now if you're going to be like that,"Alfred said deadly serious. The machine had been tolerable before this. He had triggered something but what? He tended to be borderline sarcastic most of the time.

"What?" England mouthed. The words barely leaving his lips.

"I have no reason to help you. The only reason I am is because he would have wanted me to," Alfred said, curling his hands into fists. The intense glare unsettling, familiar, and impossibly genuine. He couldn't so perfectly match such defiance, as was set in his arched eyebrow, and thin lips. America couldn't have replaced himself so easily. Arthur wanted him to make a mistake.

"He hated me," England said. He'd received whole letters consisting of nothing but I hate you, over and over again until the words blurred together. It was always accompanied by a photograph. Someone was usually dead in it.

"No, he just intensely disliked you," Alfred said with a shrug. England knew the difference between casual hate and intense hate. If you really hated someone, you avoided them entirely. Much like Scotland before him, America had wanted nothing to do with England- again. He hadn't cared either. He thought he'd only have to wait another hundred years or so for him to cool off about a few killings. Trivial in the grand scheme of things that amount of time and for a paltry set of bodies. Arthur hadn't tried to apologize. Never did he try to contact him either. America was dying, and he hadn't noticed.

"Same difference," England said, feeling sick all of a sudden. He leaned against the counter. Alfred noticed and poked him with a spatula.

"No, he disliked you for what you've become," he corrected. What had he become? Competent? Debt Free? Friendless? Merciless? What he had tried to prevent in the first place? No. He was still the same.

"Am I so different? The monarchy was due to die out and then, there's the other thing," he could never right out and say what he's actually become to the others. He always chose some sort of flowery way of saying it.

"Well, he hoped if you could remember the magic you used to believe in. Then, you'd be ready," Alfred said, making a long sweeping motion in the direction of the ceiling. The contraption looked hopeful, and he had no doubts that he believed every word Alfred told him. Tragic. There's no such thing as fairies. He slapped a mosquito along his neck. They always seemed to follow him.

"For what?" England said, not up for some of the ridiculous challenges Alfred set. That had only been for truth or dare, if he were really hated, England could begin to see the many things America might have planned for him to make him "worthy."

"Apparently, he left the formula with a faerie for when he felt you deserved it," Alfred said.

"There's no such things as fairies," England said, feeling some sort of unpleasant twinge right after. He'd learned to ignore it.

"Bam, dead faerie, better hope it wasn't the one you needed. He didn't write it down," Alfred taunted. England didn't believe the bluff. America wasn't that much of an idiot. He wouldn't leave his people's future to chance.

"Someone in your government must know how?" he asked. Alfred shook his head.

"Nope, everything is designed to take care of itself," Alfred said, pressing a button to clean the counter to prove his point.

"I have to see one of those things?" he said, unpleasantly. When he had seen glimpses of them, they hadn't exactly been nice.

"That totalitarian government really jaded you," Alfred said, somewhat exasperated. There it was, the truth. He didn't need to hear it from a robot.

"Shut it. I'm here to make sure my people and the rest of Europe won't starve. I'm not here for you to complain about the path I took," England said, meaning every word. He did it to survive, become stronger, and he had. America had withered and died. As always, America just had to find a way to best him. He'd been gone for years, but he'd foreseen the same happening to the rest of them. Why else would he send him that letter?

_By the time you read this letter, I'll be dead. _

_I need you to know one thing before I continue. I still hate you. I always will._

_I, however, don't hate people. I never have. Even when I hated Russia and Japan, I never wanted to hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. Governments can take things too far._

_ You of all people should know that. So, I leave this letter to give you hope. When you're out of time, find an Alfred. He will send you on the right path._

_ Begrudgingly, _

_ Alfred_ _F. Jones_

"Of course, I have no right to mention what killed Alfred, ignore me" he said, smiling yet glaring at the same time. He held his spatula ready as if he were just waiting for England to make a wrong move.

"I didn't kill Alfred," England said because that was never his intention. It was a consequence. He didn't think it was deliberate. He didn't know, but that was always their excuse wasn't it? He'd accused Germany being a blind fool but the same had happened to him. Karma, at its simplest, always seemed to work this way with him. He laughed when France crumbled as an empire, and the same happened to him, only much more slowly and painfully. He took Canada away, and France took America, again in the ugliest way possible. Sometimes, he really did just want to give up.

"You made things worse," Alfred said, and he couldn't argue that.

**I do not know why I do this to myself, but this popped into my head. Let me know what you think. As it stands for my Hetalia section, Broken Glass of Empires will be updated fairly often. As the Tide Turns, I need to be careful with and will be updated when I feel whatever chapter I have his ready for output. That said, I recommend putting anything of mine you're interested in on Alerts.**


	2. Thank you for your order

Thank you for your order

For the longest time- three hours now- he had managed to stay civil. Nay, he was the only one making the effort to at this point. Alfred, Mr. Follow the damn yellow brick road, was lost. Judging by the stupid grin on his face, he was not aware of this.

"You said that Neverland was a city," he reminded him as they were clearly in a forest. Arthur was very inclined to believe he had been tricked and would be transferred to some government facility shortly. If it were not for Alfred outright obliviousness to his hostility, he might have jumped out of the car right then and made his way back to Europe. Alfred slammed on the brakes, jerking Arthur forward for a moment. Thanks to his seatbelt, he merely ricocheted back to his seat. Alfred, cheerful up to this point, sighed, releasing his grip on the wheel. He turned on the radio, unsurprisingly playing an American song from the fifties. (Many foreign artists were banned now, even the Beatles. America could be quite petty about these things really, not that it infuriated England like it did when he was still alive. ) He then pulled a small lever next to his seat, reclining his seat back so it became difficult to keep proper eye contact with him. To add insult to injury, Alfred put his arms behind his head and completely ignored him.

"Alfred, did you lie to me?" he persisted. It wouldn't do to be taken by a rogue robot who looked just like Am- one of them. Alfred closed his eyes and hummed- nothing Arthur recognized sadly. England was about to demand the information more explicitly when Alfred opened one of his eyes and answered.

"Sorry but I'm not required to deal with your little temper tantrums," he said, opening his eyes and stretching. Not long after, he officially turned off the engine. England was not pleased.

"I would simply like to know why we are in the middle of a bloody forest when you said we were going to a suburban area," England said, crossing his arms. He was not the one being unreasonable, after all, even as a nation, he had certain reservations about not knowing where he was. Arthur was not infallible and was often spared destruction due to his innate stubbornness than any inherent immortality.

" For your information, we happen to be in the outskirts of Neverland, and if you continue to complain, I will ship your ass back to Japan," he said, narrowing his eyes into slits and smiling as a friendly reminder that Alfred ran things whether he liked it or not. England scoffed; he didn't particularly like these circumstances. He wanted to talk to something human, not something contrived to act human. Never mind if he was doing a decent job so far, he shouldn't have to remind himself America was dead. It made him feel guiltier than anything he'd actually done, because he was very aware how easy it would be to simply pretend that America wasn't.

" For a jolly dolt, you do have a tendency to snap," England muttered, a bit disturbed that Alfred's berserk button happened to be his creator. He wasn't supposed to be another person, but at the same time, he didn't want him to be America.

" He went to a lot of trouble to get real trees and continued to plant them, long after his health started to deteriorate. Canada noticed what America was doing and helped plant them. It's the last thing they did together. I thought you of all people would appreciate it," Alfred explained, dousing Arthur's temper considerably. In fact, he felt like a huge prick. England supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least lessen the severity of his criticisms or maybe, even apologize.

"I . . . I didn't know," he said instead, because at the end of the day, one sad story wasn't going to undo his own issues with his family, extended or otherwise.

" Just trust me, okay, I know what I'm doing," Alfred said, finally sparing him a glance as he searched for some semblance of trust. He didn't find it.

"That's hard to believe," England said, appraising the synthetic model in front of him. How many times had he heard that before from America, the one who would rapidly deteriorate into legend as time went on? Already, he couldn't remember small details like what he liked on his sandwich, why exactly he loved rabbits so much, and when exactly he started to call himself the hero, the things that made him human to Arthur.

"It's never stopped you before," Alfred said, staring at his palm, likely seeing something that Arthur couldn't grasp -not anymore. He noticed and closed the fist tightly, before returning his gaze to Arthur.

"Do you know why America did this?" Alfred said, gesturing to the pine trees around them.

"A last ditch effort to fix what I broke?"he guessed which had Alfred laugh, muttering something that sounded like egotistical Brit. England ignored this and tried to remember why he had agreed with Parliament when they suggested destroying what remained of America's finite resources instead of using precision strikes which had become the standard. Try as he might to find another reason, he could think of only one, because in the end, he wanted to destroy his successor.

"No, this part has little to do with you, actually. He was going back to the beginning," Alfred said, pressing his hand against the car while looking at the pines visible through the moon roof. This idea seeped into Arthur's head and echoed ominously. The past brought fear, resentment, hostility and above all, lacked the knowledge necessary to let him grow. However, judging by all the nostalgic 50's paraphernalia, America didn't seem to get that.

" How could that have been remotely helpful?" England asked, and it seemed his polite tone was enough to avoid annoying the machine. Alfred, as far as Arthur could tell anyway, wasn't particularly fascinated by the pines outside, but whatever was passing through his circuits right then.

" He felt at peace in the forest; it helped him think clearly. America vaguely remembered a time when he was simply trusted to serve nature's best interest, before things became complicated and ethnicity and intelligence started to matter, before he had to make a choice of whom to protect," Alfred said with a sigh, growing sullen. Still, he managed to smile when he noticed England's own frown.

"I can't quite grasp the feeling, but I understand it meant a lot to him. Would you like to see it for a while?" Alfred asked, and Arthur could tell he would be deeply insulted if he didn't.

"Yes," Arthur said, deciding that the hungry could wait another hour. He paused as the wrongness of the statement sank in. Considering the absolutely horrible -sometimes unforgivable- things he did on a regular basis, he was glad that he would most likely never die and find out whether there was a worse punishment than his own self loathing.

"Tell me, are there faeries in these parts? " he asked distractedly; perhaps, he could justify their detour this way. The faeries were the key to finding what he needed. He slapped his neck yet again when he felt a tingling sensation against his skin. Alfred gaped, before covering his face as if he had given too much away. England stared at his hand dubiously. Perhaps, he had.

"It wouldn't matter if there was," Alfred muttered quietly while pocketing his keys. Arthur continued to stare at his hand, daring to believe there might be more to it than he originally thought. Had he done something wrong without realizing it? _It had certainly happened before. _Alfred observed Arthur's slow descent out of the car, practically drilling a hole into his hand with his steady gaze.

"Lighten up a little, would ya?" Alfred asked, slapping England's back in an attempt to startle him out of his pondering. He only blinked in response, finding his close examination fruitless, apparently, trying to force his previous sight to return would do him no good.

"Not everyone has a button that tells them when to smile," he answered instead, somewhat irritable. How could a bloody robot see what used to come so easily to him? Better yet, what if anything about this copy made him worthy to see them?

" I'm going to tell you something that's going to make this trip a lot easier on you," Alfred said, leaning against the car, in an effort to appear casual, despite Arthur knowing full well that he would have left a large dent if he really were putting his full weight into it. Alfred's usual expression tended to be joyous; however, his smile had shifted into a thin line and his eyes, normally huge and open, were lidded

"What?"he asked when no answer was given.

"I respond better to positive reinforcement," Alfred said, walking away from him without showing any of the apprehension present when England had threatened to leave the restaurant. This confidence likely came from the fact that Arthur had no idea where they were and had to follow or risk getting lost in a country that had become extremely Xenophobic.

"Why are you following me?" he asked because Arthur was expected to be a mind reader and automatically know what the machine had in mind.

" I thought you were going to show me around?" he said, none too subtle about his annoyance. Alfred's eyes momentarily scanned the surrounding area likely seeing "faeries" or perhaps something else entirely. England couldn't make up his mind about the matter. He had vivid memories of contacting such beings before although he had excused it as some sort of escapism on his part. England had yet to see evidence either way.

" It would be best for you to explore on your own. I will find you before it gets dark," Alfred said, continuing his trek into the forest. Arthur had yet to give up on following because he had been subject to such ridiculous reasoning before. Scot insisting he man up and learn to take care of himself had led to his brother dragging him by the cape into the forest and forcing him to stay there until Scotland had moved on. Scotland leaving him in the forest had arguably started his friendship with the faeries.

"Is this really necessary?" he said when it became clear that his metallic and therefore, unchangeable physique had Arthur at a disadvantage when it came to keeping up with the behemoth. Alfred, thankfully, stopped and waited for him to close the gap between them. Admittedly, despite his snappish tendencies, he did appear to have been programmed with some sort of courtesy as he waited for Arthur to catch his breath before responding.

"America left you a gift, if you can find it," Alfred said, gesturing to the entire bloody forest. Arthur let his shoulders sag, and he stared incredulously at the apathetic robot. He wiped part of the accumulating sweat from his forehead. (He really wasn't wearing the right clothes for this, and there would likely be pit stains on his coat if he bothered checking. Still, he fixed the wrinkles and adjusted the collar on his suit.) Now would have been a good time for some little humanoid creature to whisper in his ear. Fortunately, England did have some hope that he could trick his current companion into revealing the location of the precious item. He opened his mouth, but Alfred cut him off.

"Before you ask, I have been instructed not to tell you where it is," America said, holding up his index finger for further emphasis. He supposed it was foolish to try wring out any secrets from a being designed to hold a lot of sensitive information, especially when he had failed miserably the first time.

"Of course," Arthur muttered, resulting in an unexpected pat on the back from Alfred.

" America gives you the opportunity to do as you wish. It is up to you to make something of it," he said, bright and cheery, and it became painfully obvious that this sickeningly sweet loyalty would continue to fray England's nerves. There probably wasn't any use arguing. He might get lucky, and Alfred had never specified if there was a time limit to this exercise either.

"Very well, see you soon," he said as Alfred enthusiastically nodded before taking off. Oddly, Arthur found himself fixated on Alfred as he jogged backwards, waving furiously in an over extended goodbye. The more cynical part of him wanted the cheery bastard to fall, but he wasn't terribly upset when Alfred simply wasn't in his line of vision anymore. He might have even smiled a little. The smile left quickly.

Arthur started walking the other direction to distance himself from Alfred. If he over thought the impulse, he might assume that he should follow Alfred who might have purposely gone the right direction to throw him off. Then again, he had yet to see any evidence that the machine was clever. Sure, it was a smartass with self entitlement issues, but this wasn't enough of a reason for Arthur to turn back. He wandered aimlessly which wasn't very hard considering the forest floor consisted of mulch and wood chips with the occasional rotten log or vine. After a while, he started to get the feeling that he was walking in circles. Considering it was an artificial forest in an area he wasn't familiar with; he likely was. Eventually, he came to a stream, a welcome sight. Splashing some water on his face to cool himself off, he contemplated crossing the river. There did seem to be more trees on the other side, and he had crossed multiple streams when he was no bigger than a bush. He headed upstream and looking for an area where the stream might narrow, yet the stream was strangely uniform. It dawned on him after a while that it was artificially made so he risked crossing at a calm area with little qualms. His fine shoes were soaked as was his bottom pant leg, but he pressed onward. As much as he loathed thinking it, he could buy more appropriate attire later.

The trees looked the same on the other side however so crossing the stream didn't have much of a point. He wandered some more, vaguely following some forgotten whisper. Arthur stopped for a moment, pondering if some of his past fancies had returned in the wake of his solitude. Something the doctors had pointed out triggered these fantasies in the first place. Upon stopping, the whispers faded into a dull buzz near his ear, and he nearly smacked his neck out of habit until he heard a blood chilling whisper.

"Stop." It couldn't be . . . and yet, it sounded familiar. Arthur's breathing noticeably slowed to a comfortable pace when the buzzing stopped and nothing else happened. Stupefied into inaction, he waited further instruction from some light, or some scantily clad fae. (Some part of his brain reminded him that was not the case. He promptly ignored it.)

_Blast. They're starting to comeback. They can't- not again. _

And so, he clumsily stepped forward and continued, noting the pink and orange hue of the sky visible from the tree tops.

_It's getting late. Can Alfred even find me all the way out here? _

Arthur didn't particularly like this ugly traitorous thought. For it implied, he needed the blasted machine like he needed a cell phone or Google. He didn't want to think of the thing as a necessity or even as a necessary evil. While it could be argued it was almost the entire reason he followed Alfred in the first place, he resented feeling the tiniest bit apprehensive of the growing darkness.

_Whatever, he'll either find me anyway with some boneheaded luck or I'll make camp. _

It's not like Alfred was the first to abandon him in the forest. Scotland had done so repeatedly, and this had the unintended consequence of making him competent in such unplanned situations. Arthur wasn't done looking though.

"Arthur?" he heard a brittle voice echo, making him uneasy. Apparently, he was tempting fate continuing in the dimming light. Not to mention that the last faeries he had seen were less than pleasant but he vaguely remembered that they were part of the Unseelie Court so it was entirely justified in that sense, (mischievous little things.) Arthur rubbed his forehead to postpone the headache that was developing. He was definitely being influenced by the quiet atmosphere. Anything seemed more plausible when there was no one there to call you crazy.

_Forget what they told you, America. If you listen too much to how people think you should be, you'll start believing it and abandoning who you are has horrible consequences. _

Right, America had taken the sharp decline in nationalism after the Watergate scandal very hard. Thinking back to that time seemed strange when America had recovered quickly from his depression, but it was never the same. Never same- England could never be the same could it? And yet, his situation was entirely different, and England wasn't even accounting for the obviously forced nature of the recovery.

_Sure, they're never going to trust me again, but it's not a big deal._

_ Sure, maybe I'm starting to think the American dream has turned into a giant lie, but people will come anyway._

_ Sure, I've never experienced something like this before, but the planes . . . it . . . won't happen again right?_

_ Sure, I can't afford some of the things I used to, but you will still visit me right?_

_ Sure, I can't come to world meetings anymore, but I'll still help all of you. _

In retrospect, it was really jarring. He really had to wonder when the lying started, on both sides. " Are you," the trembling voice managed to interrupt, and he flinched after its long absence. "Looking for" the creature continued after a slight pause. England perked up, maybe he would find this supposed "gift." He nodded although the thing wasn't visible.

"Someone?" the voice squeaked out after his confirmation. After a slight hesitation, he nodded once more, and just as quickly as he agreed with the thing, a paper fluttered into his hand.

_Keep moving forward. _

"Is this some sort of sick joke Alfred?" he shouted which only resulted in the faint rustling of forest creatures. He kept moving anyway, at this rate, preferring not to run into Alfred for he would surely strangle him.

"Left," the voice told him, and he listened absently. What did it matter anymore? Immediately, he noticed something different about this place. There was a neatly cut stone path, and lights strung about the trees to help him see. His pace quickened at these signs of a human presence. Could he . . . could he not be dead after all? A cabin soon came into his line of vision and he rushed forward. When he opened the door, he froze, unsure if Alfred had been waiting for him to catch up the whole time or if this was the surprise.

"Long time no see, Arthur" he greeted, giving him a hug that made him think the latter. Not that it added up with anything he had been told, but things rarely did these days.

"America?" England questioned softly. America's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. Oh Alfred again, why would he even greet him that way? They had seen each other less than a day ago. He scowled, but Alfred put his hands forward to quiet him.

"Let me explain, this is a recording from a disk that Alfred has inserted into himself upon my instruction. I have a set number of things to tell you as this is only one of many you will find, " he said, and some part of Arthur's face must have creased, maybe his lips had formed a frown, or maybe the wetness of his eyes had slipped from his tear duct because America immediately sat him down on one of the two rocking chairs. He sat in the other, seeming genuinely curious about his appearance.

"Don't look so down Arthur, just because I'm a program from a small disk doesn't mean I won't be good company," he said, offering him tea to prove his point. Arthur looked at the clock, four, what a coincidence. He took it.

"Then, tell me, what I need to know so I can be on my way," England said reasonably, or at least, he thought so. America shook his head, rocking back and forth with what also looked like genuine amusement. What kind of game was he playing, toying with him like this?

"How rude, you just arrived and expect the secrets of the universe? I'm afraid I won't make it so easy for you," he said, smirking as he drank his tea. Arthur hated that the things enjoyed and digested food like it was normal, blurring already fuzzing lines between fiction and reality. He supposed it was better for them to recharge this way than to rely on fossil fuels, but watching him passively drink tea was hard to watch for entirely different reasons.

"What do you expect from me?" England asked the American that thumbed the rim of the cup. He put his tea down and looked at him, lingering on his wet and wrinkled clothes.

"A lot more than you've shown me so far, but not to worry, you do not have to interrogate me all at once. You will be allowed to keep the disc for further use," he said, and Arthur did not like the insinuation that he would have to speak to this recording multiple times.

"Why did you send me on this wild goose chase?" England asked, causing America to roll his eyes.

"I expected you to snap out of your dictator phase eventually,"he said, completely ignoring the insinuation that the trip was pointless. The recording seemed to catch its error.

"I assure you the formula does exist. I am not here to trick you," America said, and England decided it was best to get the most obvious questions out of the way.

"Will you tell me where it is?" he said, and America shook his head. He figured, but perhaps, he had tips for dealing with the damn robot.

"Is the Alfred unit useful for anything other than throwing temper tantrums?"he asked, and America visibly soured.

"He is a human being in everything but name, deal with it," he said snappishly. The anger reminded him of what he really wanted to know.

" Why didn't you tell me you were dying?" he said, making America speechless. Perhaps, it was too much to expect for this machine to know the answer. America stared at the floor and sighed.

"It would have complicated things," he said vaguely, indicating he knew more than he let on. America finally reestablished eye contact as if nothing had happened.

"Please, be careful with Alfred. He is very naive. I couldn't bring myself to fix it, and I certainly don't want you to be the one to break him," America said, and he did not continue until Arthur nodded.

"Isn't that wrong? You're setting him up for failure," England reasoned as America guiltily turned to the window.

"I used to think I was such a special snowflake, and yes, it gave me a swelled head but, I lost many of my greatest strengths when I started falling apart," he said and instead of waiting for England to ask, he continued.

"Hope, optimism, and a genuine belief the world could learn to get along to name a few," he said, lingering on the area where his heart should be.

"I'll be honest. This is more of an introductory disk. I don't have very many important things to say, except," he trailed off, taking a deep breath and leaving the rocking chair.

"I don't completely hate you, but you know that. What you really need to hear if your going to make it is that I have faith in you and the best advice I can give you is to try and focus more on the journey than the destination okay?" he said, spilling out the words before pushing the button between his ribs and popping out the disk. England could not reply properly, leaving him feeling the tiniest bit empty.

_I don't hate you either._ He sank into the rocking chair as Alfred blinked back into existence.

"So, what was in the disk?" he asked, sitting in the opposite rocking chair. England contemplated what to tell him, and he settled for the easiest answer.

"Not much." Alfred didn't like that answer, not about _The Original America. _

"You probably didn't ask the right questions," Alfred replied off handedly. England sighed, silly idealistic robot, and yet he probably didn't. He pocketed the disk, because there was always tomorrow.


End file.
